At CTU headquarters, Jack Bauer's face was grim. The entire sequence of events had just played out on screen. The only bit of consolation was that, in the overhead footage, most of the rapid response team still appeared to be alive. They were all gathered around someone, though—no way of knowing who had been hurt.
"Jack, this is bad..."
Janet looked over at Jack as she spoke. Jack frowned. He'd also noticed something on the lower section of the image from Hawkeye—a convoy of vehicles was heading straight for the crash site.
"Unicorn, this is Nest calling Unicorn. A convoy is moving toward your location. Preliminary assessment indicates a hostile force. Do you copy? Please respond..."
Jack called anxiously into the comms, but got no answer. His heart sank. The rapid response team's contact was Owen. Given the current circumstances, either Owen was down, or their comms were busted. Neither was a good sign.
On top of that, the team appeared to be engaged in a firefight with people in the village. With enemy reinforcements closing in, things looked bleak—isolated and outgunned, the team faced the risk of complete annihilation.
Just then, Janet's earpiece crackled to life with an incoming call.
"Little Bird Three to Nest. Do you copy? Over..."
"This is Nest. We copy."
"Nest, I can't make contact with One and Two. Are they...?"
Somewhere, the pilot of Little Bird Three was consumed by grief. His comms were linked to One and Two. He'd received the report when Two was hit, and then both aircraft went dark. He knew in his heart his comrades were likely gone—but he couldn't stop himself from asking Nest, hoping for a miracle.
"I'm sorry, Three. One and Two have been shot down. Casualty status unknown..."
Janet's voice was low, but she had no choice but to deliver the bad news.
Silence on the other end.
After a moment, Little Bird Three's voice came back, choked with emotion. "Nest, this is Little Bird Three. Repairs are complete. Ready for combat. Awaiting further orders..."
Jack and Janet exchanged a glance. To them, this was nothing short of a lifeline—hope returned. The rapid response team could still be saved.
Jack grabbed the comms. "Nest to Little Bird Three. One and Two have failed their mission. Combat personnel are pinned down at the crash site. Hostiles are surrounding them. You are to proceed immediately to their location for extraction..."
"Little Bird Three, acknowledged."
"Little Bird Three, remember—your mission is to extract them safely, not to avenge One and Two. Mission completion takes priority..."
The pilot suppressed the surge of emotion. He was a soldier. Mission first.
"Little Bird Three copies. Priority: complete mission, extract personnel..."
"Crash site coordinates: 453."
"Little Bird Three en route to 453."
...
Crash Site
After regaining consciousness, Owen could hear gunfire all around. The rest of the rapid response team relaxed upon seeing he was okay. It seemed they'd landed in a bandit nest—people from all directions in the village were converging on them, all carrying weapons. Heartbeat had already opened fire—not to kill, but to warn and keep them at bay.
Owen shouted in English, Monica yelled in Italian, but the other side didn't respond. When they did, the rapid response team couldn't understand a word. No way to establish communication.
"Get back! Stay the hell away from us!"
Heartbeat yelled as he fired, but the villagers had no idea what he was saying and kept advancing. Bullets struck in their path, and they didn't understand that Heartbeat was holding back—they started shooting in return.
Now that the other side had opened fire, the rapid response team held nothing back. They were now official hostiles. Every member gave it their all, and within moments, the enemy started falling in droves.
"Bang bang... bang bang..."
Owen took down two with double taps. The advancing hostiles, though numerous, were untrained. No real military discipline. They fired with arms raised above their heads, completely undisciplined.
Their bullets were many, but few posed any real danger. The rapid response team, on the other hand, made almost every shot count. Still, their overwhelming numbers meant that both sides quickly reached a stalemate.
Despite having the upper hand for the moment, Owen felt no joy. They might be winning now, but it wouldn't last. Isolated, nearly out of ammunition—defeat was just a matter of time.
"Cowboy, we can't stay here—"
Ghost shouted to Owen while laying down fire.
"I know. I'm working on it..."
Just as Owen was rapidly evaluating their next move, Jack Bauer's voice came through his earpiece.
"Unicorn, do you copy?"
"Unicorn copies."
"Your situation is critical. A large hostile force is en route. Prepare for engagement..."
Fuck!
Before Owen could let loose his curse, Jack gave him a sliver of hope. "I've dispatched a Black Hawk to extract you, but it'll take around ten minutes to reach you..."
"What about those guys?"
"They'll be on you in two minutes, tops..."
Fuck!
This time Owen got to let it out. Looked like another brutal fight was coming—but at least they had a chance now.
"Guys, good news and bad news. Good news: if we hold out ten minutes, a chopper will come pull us out... Bad news: before that, a whole wave of enemy reinforcements will be on us..."
Owen yelled the update to everyone. It was a mixed bag, but hope was hope. The rapid response team was made up of hardened veterans with complete skill sets and strong resolve. They wouldn't give up until the very end. Still, hope gave people strength.
"When this is over, I'm taking leave. Damn it..."
"I want a raise..."
"I'm demanding an all-expenses-paid vacation to Hawaii..."
...
The good news boosted morale, and even sparked some jokes.
Both Owen and Jack Bauer smiled on their ends of the line. This was what a real iron-blooded unit looked like. At this moment, the rapid response team's spirit was on par with any special forces group.
"Check your ammo."
Owen fired two more bursts and dropped another enemy. More and more were pouring in from all directions. Heartbeat had been right—they'd really landed in a hornet's nest.
"RPG\~\~\~"
Monica's cry rang out just as a streak of white smoke flew toward them. But the aim was way off—missed by nearly ten meters.
Seeing other RPG gunners prepping to fire, Owen and Ghost each took one out.
"I've got three mags left..."
"Four mags..."
"Four mags and a few grenades..."
...
Everyone began reporting their ammo status. Things weren't looking good. After such intense fighting, supplies were severely depleted. The odds of lasting through the next wave were low.
"Two pistol mags..."
Catherine, hiding behind the group, hesitated before answering. By now she'd adapted to the chaos and wasn't scared anymore, but she couldn't contribute much.
She had taken the pistol from the dead machine gunner. Everyone was too busy fighting to watch over her. She'd had to fend for herself.
Owen scanned everyone, then looked at Catherine, and finally turned his gaze to the wrecked helicopter. A new idea began forming in his mind.
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